The Revenge of the Unknowledge of Sherlock Holmes and his Doctor
by Maeve09
Summary: After being baffled by the self-diagnosed sociopath known as Sherlock Holmes more times than he cared to count, John Watson has decided it's high time to return the favor. No Johnlock! Other characters from Sherlock are unlikely to appear. My first fanfic, so I'm not so sure about the rating; mild cursing woven in.
1. Case Files and Shattered Plates

**~AN: I ****do not**** own the characters to Sherlock; all credit goes to their respective owners and whatnot.~**

**Author's Note: Sherlock's "Unknowledge" is my term for all of the information he has "deleted". This was inspired by the comedy act "Who's on First?" by Bud Abbott and Lou Costello. I was watching it the other day, and since I am passionate-bordering-on-obsessed with BBC Sherlock, weeeellll, this is what happens! If you haven't seen it, you should! Just look it up on YouTube.**

After being baffled by the self-diagnosed sociopath known as Sherlock Holmes more times than he cared to count, John decided it was high time to return the favor. He spent weeks pondering what could leave the consulting detective as flustered as he was sometimes. "John, were did you put that case from last month?" Sherlock called from his spot at the microscope.

The jumper clad doctor glanced up from the screen of his laptop to where his friend had been sitting for the past 12 hours. Sherlock hadn't moved all day, which wasn't all that surprising. He had been a statue for the past week and a half, and as of yet hadn't told John why. Not that John minded; he quite enjoyed the calm silence that had pervaded the usually hectic flat.

He had finally been able to make it semi-presentable, straightening up what he could before icy blue eyes settled on him, warning not to touch numerous objects, namely the skull on the mantle. He had tried multiple times to move the grisly object, just to dust the wood beneath it at least, but all his efforts gained him death stares and a slap on the wrist. He decided he didn't want to touch the creepily grinning thing anyway...

"You mean the one you threw a plate at me for touching?" John asked from behind his laptop.

"You had it coming. I told you not to touch my cases..." Sherlock noted, adjusting the knobs of the microscope with steady fingers. John glared at him. "Your case files are wrecks. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you planted them strategically so that I would trip over them on a minute by minute basis!" John growled to his screen, missing Sherlock's knowing smirk. "They are placed exactly where I need them to be. They are perfectly organized, and you touching them disrupts them greatly." Sherlock stated haughtily. "Now where is it?" he asked impatiently.

John lowered his screen so that Sherlock could see his expression of annoyance. "Well lets see, after you threw the plate at me I dropped it and ducked for cover from the shards of glass. That was near the sofa, so I deduce that it must be gathering dust beneath it." he concluded. "Lovely deduction, John. Now do something that is actually of use and bring it to me." Sherlock said. John sighed and placed his laptop on the table before fetching said case file from beneath the sofa and walking over to the kitchen with it.

"Ah, isn't this the one with that American woman, the one you were baffled by?" John inquired, seeing the newspaper clippings peeking from the folder. "I wasn't _baffled_, John." Sherlock said irritably. "I merely was thrown off course by Americans and their customs. Peculiar lot, they are. Whatever data I needed for her case was deleted years ago." Sherlock said. He looked up at John with a passive expression. "And no, she wasn't interested in you. Honestly John, you could do better than her." He said before turning his attention back to the specimen he was examining.

Having been thus dismissed, John left the kitchen. He decided to brush off Sherlock's comment about the American, appreciating that Sherlock thought he could do better. Coming from the detective, it meant a lot. Then again, Sherlock said that about nearly every woman John dated...

_Oh hell, what does that matter? _John thought, settling back into his chair and opening his laptop. Sherlock missed John's wicked smile as he typed furiously; John had just discovered the source of his revenge.

**Author's Note:**

**Oooooo, what are you plotting, John? This is my first fanfic, so please be gentle. But tell me honestly how I did! Please review, and let me know if you want me to continue. I probably will anyway, I'm having so much fun! I've never written about Sherlock or John before, they are such interesting characters... :)**

**Please feel free to leave a note or contact me!**


	2. The Danger of Boredom

**~AN: I ****do not**** own the characters to Sherlock; all credit goes to their respective owners and whatnot.~**

John was careful to act as normally as possible the next day as he prepared for work. While every cell in his body was screaming at him, "Run! Run to work and get things ready! Muahahaha!" he knew better than to show his excitement around Sherlock. That man could smell it a mile away. Nonetheless, Sherlock threw him a passing glance as he came downstairs and into the shared flat to grab something edible before work.

"You're face is slightly flushed. There's no point in trying to hide a new girlfriend from me, John. You reek of excitement and adrenaline." Sherlock noted. John glared at his infuriating flatmate, his brown eyes meeting with the calculating blue-grey of Sherlock's.

He was still in his grey pyjamas, crouching on the back of his leather chair with his hands steepled beneath his chin, and his red robe slightly off-kilter and draping from his shoulders down the side of the chair, a trail of blood and wine. If he didn't know any better, John would've thrown Holy Water at him while screaming "Vampire!"

Unfortunately they didn't have any Holy Water. But he was sure he could find a wooden stake somewhere in Sherlock's mess...or he could just break a leg off of the table. They hardly ever ate off it any way.

"Honestly, John. You claim I'm the violent one, yet you have one of the most belligerent minds I know." Sherlock said calmly. "Well at least I don't act on my thoughts. How do you even know what I'm thinking of?" John asked. Mind reader...

"No, I'm not a mind reader. If you must know, it's your face."

"My face?"

"Yes, your face. It had violence plastered on it. And the way you were looking at the table leg, honestly. To think you would consider such a thing. And it wouldn't kill a vampire at any rate." Sherlock sighed and slid down the back of the chair to sit in it properly, only to draw his legs back up and rest his head on his knees. "You are so easy to read."

He didn't have to complain of boredom, John could see the Incredible Sulk already peeping through. _Not a mind reader my arse. _John thought.

"And although you may not eat off it, that table is a necessary for my work and experiments, John. So don't even think of tearing it apart, or else I shall call you a hypocrite when you give me death stares for only scratching the table. Besides, I didn't even scratch it, it was a potential client with a sword who was trying to kill me for refusing their offer." Sherlock stated haughtily.

"It was _your_ client, it was _your_ fault, Sherlock." John rolled his eyes, his hands searching the fridge for the milk and jam.

"Hardly my fault!" Sherlock protested. "And the jam is next to the kidneys on the top shelf. Milk's gone. I told you to get more."

John located the jam and pulled it out. At least he could have some toast before going out.

"And when did you tell me this?" he asked.

Sherlock sighed and closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the head of the chair. They both knew where this was going. "Two days ago, give or take. About nine in the evening." John quickly calculated where he was during that time while waited for the toast to come out.

"Sherlock, I was on a date with Cindy. Why couldn't you get it yourself?" he asked.

Sherlock snorted in amusement. "Really John? Me? In a supermarket getting the milk? Oh what a domestic little thing you are. I tried shouting for Mrs. Hudson, but she couldn't hear me. Watching crap telly again, most likely."

Suddenly his head popped up and he stared at John intently. "I texted you as well, but you didn't respond. Why is that?" he inquired.

"Because I was on a date, Sherlock! I ignored you!" John said.

"And what if I was in danger?"

"You weren't in danger, I could tell."

"How?" Sherlock asked, watching as John grabbed the toast as soon as it popped out. That man had a habit of doing that, no matter how hot it was. He was quite interested in finding out how he dealt with the heat. Maybe a failure of the nervous system to notice it...

"_Get the milk and come home, I'm bored.-SH _is what the message said. You were definitely not in danger of any kind."

"Yes I was. Danger of boredom." Sherlock protested.

"Aren't you always." John mumbled, slathering jam onto the steaming bread before munching on it contentedly. He enjoyed exactly four seconds of peace before he realized that Sherlock still had his eyes fixed on him and was watching him eat. It was slightly unnerving, to say the least.

"Yoohoo!" called Mrs. Hudson as she popped her head into the room, knowing at the door. It was enough to make John laugh, really. Their sweet old landlady called out to let them know she was coming in, and in effect to preserve their privacy, but if there was anything happening that they didn't want her to see, it would be too late since she pokes her head through the doorway at the same time. And as for what she was expecting to see that would be invading their 'privacy,' John wasn't sure he wanted to know...

"Are you two having a little domestic again?" she asked innocently, looking about the messy flat to see what she could get away with cleaning up. Lord knows Sherlock can make a fine mess when he was in one of his moods, and poor John had enough on his plate already just trying to keep the sulking man alive.

_Well, that answers that question._ John thought. _How many bloody times do I have to say 'We're not a couple'?_

"Right then. I going to work now." John said, eating the last of his hurried breakfast (he hadn't had a proper on in days, now that he thought about it) and heading towards the stairs. "Text me if you must, but don't expect a reply. And no shooting the smiley face._ With anything, Sherlock._" John shouted as he descended the stairs, missing the smug look on Sherlock's face disappear.

Mrs. Hudson watched the scene with interest, patting Sherlock on the shoulder as the front door shut. "Don't worry, dear, he'll be back home soon. Assuming there's no pretty woman to meet today. Now, don't give me that look, Sherlock. All you need is another case, is all, a clever criminal, and you'll be back to normal in no time..." Sherlock watched as she prattled off, wandering about and trying to organize the flat so it looked "presentable."

While he could have just told her to leave it all alone, and no, do NOT touch the skull (he wasn't going to ask, not when he was in the middle of one of his sulks), he decided to let her have her fun. Besides, he could always go back and destroy the flat again before John got home.

~oOo~

When John walked into his office, he was surprised to see Sarah there waiting for him. Things had been a little awkward after the break up, but they had maintained a steady friendship despite it. And he appreciated the fact that she was most likely the only kinda-not-really-an-ex-girlfriend John had who understood that he and Sherlock were not together.

"John! Wonderful. I was hoping you could help cover for Elise today. Her sister's having a baby and she wanted to be there." Sarah said, handing him the files for today.

"Yeah, no problem. I'm happy to help." John smiled at her, then began browsing through the papers.

"So how are things at home with Sherlock?" Sarah asked. John's head snapped up. _Oh no. Don't tell me you think..._

Sarah laughed at the alarmed look on his face, waving a hand at him. "No, no, not like that, John. I haven't seen anything in the newspaper about him and his brilliance, so I assumed there are no cases. And from what you've told me, that's hardly ever a good thing." she explained, and the look of worry passed from John's face.

"Yeah, he's in one of his moods again. Sulking about the flat like a child." John said.

"Unbelievable. I wish I could see it!" Sarah laughed. It was hard for anyone who had seen the consulting detective at his best to imagine him pouting around a flat for days on end.

"Actually, I think you can." John said with a grin. "I've got a plan you can help me with..."

**~Author's Note~**

**So, what are John and Sarah scheming?**

**As for the part about John grabbing hot toast, I got that from the men in my family. They're always grabbing hot plates, bread, tortillas, you name it like it's nothing. They do, however, use an oven mit when taking things out of the oven, thank God.**

**Thanks a bunch to the readers and please review and stuff! :)**

**~Maeve09**


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